Chapter 610: The Sichuan Lord

Li Yan's mood was complicated.

In truth, he understood Yang Chenghua's anguish.

Born bearing the reincarnation of Erlang, he was destined from the start to be extraordinary.

When he was barely a month old, the Yang family suffered disaster.

As a youth, he hid his name and identity.

After coming of age, he wandered the rivers and lakes.

Though Yang Chenghua never said it outright, Li Yan knew from his fragmented words that the man had once tried to abandon his Erlang identity and blend into this world.

But in the end, he remained merely a spectator of the mortal realm.

Thus, Yang Chenghua subconsciously resisted becoming Erlang.

Only now had he fully accepted it.

When he met Ming Shanzi outside the city, he called himself Yang Jian.

Though the story of Investiture of the Gods had long been written and widely known, history paled beside the true Erlang.

Before him, there had been Li Erlang, Yang Erlang.

To adopt a new name,

perhaps signaled his desire for a fresh beginning.

From now on, there would be only Yang Jian—no more Yang Chenghua…

Thinking of this, Li Yan rallied his spirit once more.

Though Erlang stood apart from the crowd, in some way, he was the core of this event.

Many things began with his karmic ties to the River God Lord.

With his strength, he would surely force those demons out!

The truth proved exactly as he expected.

Outside the Wang Palace's Chengyun Gate, the black mist slowly dispersed; all soldiers regained their senses and stared at the figure in the center of the square.

Gulu lu~

Situ Qian's head rolled to the city gate.

Fear still lingered in his eyes.

Erlang, meanwhile, laid his three-pronged, double-edged spear across his shoulder, unslung the wine gourd from his waist, and drank deeply, gulping down mouthfuls.

He wiped his face with a casual motion, and his thick beard fell away in flakes, revealing a jade-like visage—truly noble, handsome, and striking.

Especially between his brows, the martial qi coalesced, faintly glowing.

As if a third eye had appeared out of nowhere…

This posture was all too familiar to those of Shu.

"The Manifest Saint True Lord!"

"It's the Manifest Saint True Lord descending!"

Some soldiers stared wide-eyed, unable to believe it.

Many others knelt and bowed their heads in worship.

The once-chaotic battlefield fell utterly still—no one dared raise a blade.

At this moment, silence reigned above and below the city walls.

Even the southwestern heretical cultivators wore faces of dread.

"He's an impostor!"

The black sect lama Duoji Zaxi sensed danger and roared to those beside him: "Are you all fools? There is no Erlang in this world—attack! Kill him!"

As he spoke, he yanked at his collar, tearing off his wide black robe to reveal a body covered in tattoos.

Beneath the robe lay a painted corpse grove.

He shook the robe aside, formed a hand seal, and chanted a spell.

Instantly, more black mist rose from the ground, swirling upward and downward, emitting piercing cries—male and female voices alike.

"Demon!"

Erlang glared upward.

Seeing his gaze, Duoji Zaxi trembled violently, his spirit shaken, his vision flooded with golden light—the spell faltered and died.

"Get out of the way!"

The blood nuo master beside him sensed trouble and lunged to shove him aside.

But it was too late.

Below, Erlang suddenly drew his silver bow and golden bullets from his waist and pulled back with a sudden jerk.

Boom!

Before anyone could react, Duoji Zaxi's head exploded instantly—red and white splattered everywhere.

This ancient demon, who had roamed the world for decades, was slain in a single strike.

Not just the other heretics—even the blood nuo master felt his scalp tighten; he dropped low, hiding behind the city wall.

"Quick! Use firearms!"

He snarled, barking orders.

He knew Yang Chenghua's true identity—he had even indirectly participated in the Yang family's downfall years ago.

But he never imagined such ferocity.

To others, it looked like Erlang fired a golden bullet; to his perception, it was terrifying incense power, wrapped in martial qi, shattering the black sect lama's soul into oblivion.

This technique utterly surpassed his understanding.

Firearms might be the best solution.

Yet no one below responded.

Even the soldiers sent by the Wang Fu hesitated—some raised their guns, only to be grabbed and held down by comrades.

Erlang, the Manifest Saint True Lord, is the Sichuan Lord.

As people of Shu, raised since childhood to worship him—how could they dare defy him?

The first to react was Sha Li Fei.

His eyes darted, then he drew his Guanshan knife and roared: "The Sichuan Lord has appeared! Let us strike down the demons! Will you not turn back from the path of evil and join us?"

"Kill!"

Zhao Xianda also snapped back to his senses and raised his blade in command.

"Kill!"

The thunderous roar echoed through the Wang Fu.

The soldiers of Chongqing Garrison surged with renewed morale.

But the Wang Fu troops hesitated, uncertain.

In an instant, the tide of battle reversed completely.

The Chongqing soldiers charged toward Chengyun Gate.

The wall here was far lower than the outer Xiao Wall, but behind the gate, sandbags and stones had already been piled to block it.

Thud! Thud!

Soldiers raised the battering ram—the gate rained dust.

Yet it refused to budge.

Above, the demons, fearing Erlang below, dared not move—none even dared to show their heads.

"Wu Ba, blast the gate open!"

Sha Li Fei shouted at once, sensing the opportunity was once-in-a-lifetime.

If they broke through to the outer courtyard of Chengyun Hall and destroyed the altar, they could shatter Lu Sheng's scheme.

As long as we breach outside the Chengyun Hall and destroy the altar, we can shatter Lu Sheng's demonic scheme.

Wu Ba grunted, shouldering the Tiger Lord Cannon.

News of the events outside had reached the city.

"My Lord, what do we do?"

The leader of the Heiling Guard bowed and asked.

The reports from his men were shocking.

Erlang, the True Lord, had appeared!

He was now utterly at a loss.

"What's the rush?"

"The Prince of Shu" calmly sipped tea, gazing upward.

With Situ Qian's death and the collapse of the Netherworld Stage, the city's red lanterns had lost their power—the spell was broken, and the mad civilians collapsed, unconscious.

The red lanterns flickered out one by one.

Without their glow, the sky, shrouded in thick fog, grew darker and deeper; lightning flashed, and massive black shadows churned.

Lu Sheng naturally saw this.

Yet he did not panic—instead, he stared intently at the sky, as if waiting for something to appear.

Beside him, Li Wenyuan also gazed upward.

Li Wenyuan beside him also gazed at the sky.

Unlike Lu Sheng, his eyes now brimmed with wariness.

He came from the Great Luo Dharma Realm and knew better what Wen Lingguan truly was; he suppressed all his aura, daring not to leak a single trace.

Hearing that Erlang had appeared, he immediately pulled a cloth bundle from his bosom.

Unwrapping it, inside lay the bronze nu mask.

"Lang Wu."

Li Wenyuan stared at the mask and suddenly spoke.

"Your servant is here."

Lang Wu, leader of the Worship Dragon Cult, quickly bowed.

He was now somewhat displeased with Li Wenyuan, yet dared not resist—after all, the man knew all his weaknesses.

Li Wenyuan shook his head at the mask and said:

"You shouldn't have used this."

Lang Wu's heart froze; he hurriedly explained: "Divine Master, forgive me—the situation was urgent, I nearly was discovered…"

Before he finished speaking, his head exploded with pain. "Ahh~"

Lang Wu let out a shriek, clutching his skull as he rolled to the ground.

His instincts were right: Li Wenyuan had pretended to treat him as a confidant, but had never truly regarded him as one.

When the great earth dragon of Daba Mountain had turned, Li Wenyuan had borrowed the divine aura of the River God Lord and sent a sliver of his immortal soul to descend, seducing Lang Wu into becoming his subordinate.

At that time, Li Wenyuan had no physical body—he had possessed Lang Wu's form, sharing one body until Lang Wu entered the Corpse Garden to cultivate and helped him find a new vessel, after which they fully separated.

It was then that Li Wenyuan had already planted a spell deep within Lang Wu's soul.

The deed had been done with utmost secrecy.

Only now did Li Wenyuan activate the spell.

"You… ungrateful wretch…"

Lang Wu felt as if a red-hot iron awl had been driven into his skull, agony splitting his mind—he could no longer concentrate to use any spell.

!

Before he could finish speaking, he felt a dull thud against his face.

It was Li Wenyuan, having pressed the nu mask onto his face.

The agonized Lang Wu instantly stiffened.

Only then did he understand Li Wenyuan's words.

Perhaps because he had used the mask before, the ancient Shu kingdom artifact, upon contact, immediately released crimson demonic qi, transforming into countless red threads that fused tightly to his face.

And Lang Wu ceased struggling, motionless.

The vertical eyes on the bronze nu mask glowed faintly red; demonic qi flooded in, turning his yin-evil aura into swirling black mist.

Demonic qi was an anomalous qi of heaven and earth.

Even those like Situ Qian, who could barely harness it to enhance their spells, faced grave risks.

Those who absorbed large quantities never failed to become demonic entities.

Lang Wu was no exception.

Yet he did not go mad or attack others—he was drawn instead toward the wall of Chengyun Palace.

Shhh!

His body flashed forward, hurtling out, limbs touching ground, sprinting like a beast, scaling the wall in swift leaps and bounding over.

Neither Li Wenyuan nor Lu Sheng were surprised.

Lu Sheng chuckled silently. "Incense divine power may be potent, but the more one absorbs, the more one is corrupted by it."

"Has anyone on your side suffered from this?"

He meant the Great Luo Dharma Realm.

Li Wenyuan feigned not hearing and changed the subject: "This is an artifact from the previous Sichuan Lord—Li Bing used it. Erlang will inevitably be drawn to it, but it's still an inanimate object—it won't hold him long."

"The moment we show ourselves, the one above will descend."

Lu Sheng gazed at the sky and murmured:

"Don't worry—it's coming soon…"

Shhh!

Outside the palace wall, a dark shadow leapt down.

A chilling wind howled, carrying bone-deep cold.

Soldiers struck by the shadow stiffened, trembling, their eyes darkening gradually to black.

At Qingyang Palace, Lang Wu had used the mask to drive many Daoists into madness; now fully controlled by it, he was even more unrestrained.

The possessed soldiers, as if under a unified command, turned in unison, raised their firelocks, and aimed at Erlang.

Erlang, seeing this, rubbed his left foot sideways.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

In an instant, dense flashes of fire erupted.

Yet Erlang, standing in place, was not struck—he merely flickered, as if merely a phantom image.

What an exquisite illusion!

The Six Idle Ones of Bamboo Grove gasped in shock.

Their eyes were sharp—they saw more clearly.

Erlang's foot had appeared to lift slightly, but in truth he had already stepped the Celestial Step; his true body had vanished elsewhere, leaving only a phantom shadow.

The soldiers had attacked nothing but illusion.

His movements were as elusive as a deer's antlers hanging on a tree—no trace to be found.

Such refined technique surpassed comprehension.

Even the most profound cultivators could not achieve this—only Erlang, drawing upon vast incense qi, could do so effortlessly.

Of course, they were not idle either.

Yue San'er drew his erhu, its melody mournful and desolate.

Wang Daoxuan also stepped the Celestial Step, shaking the Soul-Subduing Bell.

They sought to awaken the possessed soldiers with spells.

As for Erlang, his attention was fixed on Lang Wu.

The man wore the nu mask, his vertical eyes glowing crimson, utterly immune to illusions, charging straight at him.

Erlang narrowed his eyes, tugging the silver bow and golden bullet.

At this moment, Yang Chenghua's memories occupied a portion of his mind—he knew well that this mask was crafted specifically to counter him.

No matter what, he could not let it get close.

One bullet would kill it.

But just then, the vertical eyes of the bronze mask suddenly blazed crimson, as if unleashing all their power at once.

In Erlang's vision, light and shadow flickered wildly.

There, on the cliffs of Kuimen, countless figures flickered, torches scorching black marks into the rock; a mighty tribal king roared:

"Chisel!"

Kuimen cracked open, the river surged…

Crack!

A mulberry branch sprouted where struck by lightning.

Again, the king untied his hair, carefully placing a white larva on a leaf, listening to the sound of silkworms devouring leaves.

"Eat the mulberry, spit the rainbow!"

A giant turtle corpse drifted to Pi Yi; a stone ox sank into the Tuo River; under another king's command, nameless laborers cleaved open the Shu Road and drove the bones of the Min River dragon into Mount Longquan…

"Bind the Dragon!"

One scene after another flickered, accompanied by the wailing chants of Shu shamans, the jingling of bronze bells along the Shu Road, the echoing chime of bronze qing…

Congcong and Yufu—how obscure their founding!

They hacked through brambles and thorns—they were the first Sichuan Lords.

Erlang, now the Sichuan Lord, was he not of the same lineage?

At this moment, the incense power continued.

Before the horrified eyes of those nearby, Erlang suddenly tore the bronze nu mask from Lang Wu's face and placed it upon his own.

"He… what is he doing?!"

On the rooftop of the Zhuangyuan Pavilion outside the city, the Daoist Lan Chenzi cried out in shock.

The Qingcheng Sect members, now aware of Yang Chenghua's identity, felt reassured—even placing their hopes on him.

After all, he was the Sichuan Lord.

Yet the scene within left them utterly bewildered.

Li Yan's mind went blank.

He had warned him—how had he still fallen for it?

Fortunately, reports kept arriving.

After donning the mask, Erlang did not lose control—he stood motionless, the bronze nu mask's third eye gathering celestial qi, seemingly erasing the demonic energy…

In any case, Erlang had temporarily lost his combat ability.

The battle before Chengyun Gate continued.

BOOM!

With a thunderous crash, Wu Ba staggered backward.

The gate of Chengyun Palace was blasted open by a gaping hole.

"Kill!"

Several battalion commanders roared and led their soldiers inside.

On the square before Chengyun Hall, hundreds remained—all of them the Shu Prince's direct Black Feather Guard. They cared nothing for the True Lord Who Manifests; they formed ranks and kept firing their divine fire guns.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Sparks flew everywhere; half the soldiers who charged in were instantly killed or wounded.

Thanks to the power of their new firearms and the advantage of terrain, these few hundred Black Feather Guards held firm against the garrison troops.

While the fighting raged outside, the inner halls of the Shu Prince's palace were utterly silent.

"No! No!"

The Fifth Prince was bound with chains, helplessly watching his princess consort turned into a burning figure as she was burned alive before the ancestral tablets.

"No!"

Screaming in agony, Xiao Jinghong's eyes bled tears of blood.

CRACK!

The ancestral tablets of the Shu Prince and the tablets of land and grain all shattered; the incense qi was drained and drawn toward Zhao Jie's altar.

"Open!"

With disheveled hair, Zhao Jie suddenly raised his Luo Pan and slashed his sword toward the sky.

At that moment, every heart trembled as all eyes turned upward.

Lightning flashed, and another shadowy palace appeared in the air.

RUMBLE! RUMBLE!

A torrential downpour suddenly poured from the heavens.

The bronze flower basket housing the Dragon Girl trembled slightly.

Wang Daoxuan glanced at the basket, then looked up at the sky.

"The Dragon Palace's Water Mansion has appeared..."

(End of Chapter)